The Magician’s Apprentice

home?

What possible use was Hanara to his master while stuck here in Kyralia?

The most obvious answer was that he was meant to spy on Lord Dakon. Why Lord Dakon rather than any of the more powerful magicians, Hanara couldn’t guess.

And how am I supposed to spy on him if I’m out here in the stables, and he’s always in the Residence? If I go creeping around inside it’ll make people suspicious. Not that they aren’t suspicious already.

Dakon would be gone soon, too. How could he spy on the magician if he wasn’t here?

How could Lord Dakon protect Hanara if he wasn’t here? Hanara’s heart began to race as it had when he first heard the magician was going to journey to Imardin.

Can I persuade Lord Dakon to take me with him?

He shook his head and sighed. Lord Dakon had been kind and generous, but Hanara knew the man was not a fool. The last place he’d take a possible spy was the city, where Hanara might learn something useful. He’d want Hanara here, watched by his own people, where he couldn’t do any harm.

I am no spy. I have nothing to tell Takado. Soon I won’t even know where Lord Dakon is.

But even before he’d finished the thought he realised that he was wrong. He knew where Lord Dakon wouldn’t be. He also knew that a magician living nearby would protect the village if it was threatened.

He knew that while Takado could take this information from his mind, he had to reach Hanara first. For now all he could do was hope the precautions Lord Dakon had put in place would work.

PART TWO

CHAPTER 11

The magical shield encompassing the wagon kept the rain and wind at bay, but the only known methods of using magic to smooth the road surface were too slow or too laborious to be worth applying. Rutted mud, sometimes submerged under pools and puddles, the road was a torment to both horses and humans, sucking at the hoofs of the former and shaking and jolting the latter.

Someone needs to invent a better wagon, Dakon thought. He’d had the cover removed from this one because he found being enclosed in a rocking vehicle made him feel sick. Tanner, the driver, had stowed it away in case it was needed later.

Protecting himself and his companions with magic took little effort, and Lord Dakon had no trouble sparing attention for lessons. Two objects were moving through the air between the four passengers. One was a metal disc, the other a small knife. The knife kept shooting towards the centre of the disc, while the disc dodged away. Malia made a small noise and flinched as the knife whizzed past her ear.

“Wouldn’t this be safer if I used something other than a knife?” Tessia asked, her voice strained.

Jayan stared hard at the disc. “It gives you the incentive to concentrate.”

Her frown deepened, then Dakon saw it suddenly ease. Her eyes flickered towards Jayan. A faint smile touched her mouth. The knife wove through the air, then suddenly headed straight towards the disc.

A metallic clink was followed by a muttered curse from Jayan.

Dakon laughed at his older apprentice’s expression of surprise.

“What did you do, Tessia?” he asked.

“I imagined what Jayan would see if the disc was between him and the knife. It blocked his view.”

Dakon nodded. “Good. You used reasoning and imagination. You’re no match for him in control and reaction speed yet, and until you are it is thinking like this that will win the game for you. Either that, or his laziness.” Jayan frowned at Dakon in protest. “But it is dexterity that you need to learn. Now swap places.”

Tessia’s gaze remained fixed on the disc as she dodged and evaded the pursuing knife. They had played this game many times now. Jayan was running out of tricks to surprise her with and she was becoming more skilled at manipulating objects with magic and her will.

Dakon suppressed a smile. Travel was exciting only when venturing somewhere new, not when enduring the same bad roads that had jolted his bones every time he made this journey. How many times had he travelled to Imardin? He’d lost count.

As always, his apprentices provided distraction and alleviated the boredom. However, Dakon missed the conversations that had kept him entertained on previous journeys, as Jayan was reticent around Tessia and Tessia wasn’t making up for the lack of talk, either. She was not the type of woman to chatter incessantly, thank goodness, but she, too, was disinclined to speak around her fellow apprentice.

Really, Dakon thought, the two of them were a right pair of sulks when they were together.

So he kept them both occupied with lessons. Even Malia appeared to draw some entertainment from the exercises, watching with fascination and sometimes a worried frown as she witnessed more magic being used than most country people saw in their lifetimes.

The servant had become more subdued and respectful as the days passed, Dakon noted. Perhaps she was intimidated by the display of power. Or perhaps it was exhaustion. She was the only house servant accompanying them – Cannia had asked him to take Malia instead of herself, saying she was getting too old for such journeys and the young woman needed the “maturing” effect of travel.

A cry of triumph from Jayan told Dakon the apprentice had finally got the knife to touch the centre of the disc. Dakon made a small gesture, and the two swapped roles again.

Jayan made a small chuckling noise. His disc abruptly halted, poised between himself and Tessia, and began to spin in circles. When she tried to send the knife at it, the spinning sides of the disc knocked it away. She looked at Dakon.

“Is that allowed?”

He shrugged. “No rule against it.”

“But that’s not fair. How am I supposed to get the knife in?”

He didn’t answer, just looked at her expectantly. She turned her gaze back to the spinning disc.

“I suppose if I got the knife to spin around the disc at the same rate...”

Dakon smiled. “Let’s see if you can, then.”

The knife began to revolve round the disc, point always directed toward its quarry. But though its speed increased, it never matched the disc, which now spun so rapidly it had blurred into a sphere.

“I can’t,” she said and, frustrated, abandoned her attempt. “I can’t see how fast it’s going, so how can I match the speed?”

Jayan was trying hard to not look smug, Dakon noticed.

“You can’t,” Dakon told her.

“So why did you have me...?” She caught herself and looked thoughtful. “To learn that it’s impossible,” she concluded.

“Yes,” he confirmed. “The most powerful magician in all history would still be vulnerable if he were blind. Our physical form is our greatest limitation.”

She rubbed her temples. “I didn’t need the demonstration,” she said wryly, but without reproach. “I have a headache that’s reminding me of my physical form very effectively.”

“Then rest,” he said. “It’ll go away soon.”

He looked at Jayan, considering what activity to suggest next. Jayan needed to hone his fighting skills, both magical and strategic. It was all too easy to skip battle exercises when settled in a peaceful and safe environment. The magical ones could be dangerous, both to magician and apprentice and to local buildings and people. Now that there were hints of a threat from Sachaka, he ought to make sure that Jayan, at least, was well prepared. But clearly they couldn’t start throwing magic about while travelling.

A hopeful look had entered the young man’s gaze. “Kyrima?”

Dakon nodded.

As Jayan dived into the baggage for the box of game pieces, Dakon smiled. He remembered playing the game with his own master. Kyrima had been banned by the Sachakans when they had occupied Kyralia, which was proof